Scars
by The Sun Room
Summary: They exchanged scars that night. Maybe that's why they both stayed.


Every so often, in the midst of his happiness, Prince Adam is met with guilt. This is natural, he knows. Anyone who has lost ten years of his life due to carelessness and pride will be met with some guilt, some regrets, some pain. Most of the time, he's able to keep it at bay. He's able to take a deep breath of the warm air in the castle and feel right again.

But there are little things that bother him. There's the doormat near the back of the stable office, the one that used to be a houseboy. There's the brick wall behind the kitchen, the one that used to be a handsome young man. There's the slight limp in Chip's leg that never really goes away.

And there's the thin, smooth scar on Belle's shoulder.

Adam doesn't see it very often. She keeps it covered with the sleeve of her dress, fine linen and silk sheathing a little white line. But sometimes he catches a glimpse when she's dressing, or when she rolls around in bed and her nightgown slips past her shoulders. He sees the mark, set against her skin like chalk on a blackboard.

He sees it and knows he's going to spend the rest of his life trying to make it disappear.

That scar was a mistake. Just like every other problem in Adam's life, it was a mistake. A foolish split-second decision of anger and arrogance.

Belle had trespassed. She'd crept into the West Wing, where Adam tried to hide the rose, tried to hide everything, tried to hide himself. She'd settled her fingertips on the sleek pink petals of the enchanted flower, his curse and his salvation. He'd watched her do it, and he'd lost himself. Fear overwhelmed everything. He could not see her for who she was - a young, curious, beautiful girl. She was only a threat.

He lashed out, his claws unsheathing before he knew what was happening. It was the purest, most terrible animal instinct. He sent her sprawling, a single claw digging into the soft flesh of her shoulder. She tumbled to the floor, her eyes wide with terror, her body tensed to run.

That was the only time Belle ever looked at Adam like he was a monster.

The animal left him then. The anger disappeared from his body, the red was gone from his eyes. He reached for her, saw the tiny trickle of blood down her arm. He tried to apologize. He tried desperately. That's when she recoiled, sickened, horrified. She ran.

At first he didn't follow. How could he? His hope was in shambles. He had hurt his only chance at redemption. She was gone.

But there's something about animals - about beasts. They do not submit to death easily. They are made to survive. And so something within Adam made him follow her, made him run to her rescue, made him save her from the wolves.

Something made him believe, and so he was rewarded, and here she is now. Here is Belle, lying next to him, with her long brown hair flowing down her back, the bangs dipping down over her forehead. Here is Belle, and all of her is perfect, except for that scar.

He can't make it go away. But that doesn't stop him from trying. He sets the castle in order, he cares for his servants, he becomes a generous king to his people. He showers Belle with every affection he can muster. He lives the life he was meant to live.

But that doesn't keep him from doubting. That doesn't keep him from fearing. And it doesn't keep away the guilt that plagues him when he thinks that Ms. Potts lost her husband, Forte lost his mind, and Chip lost his strong legs, all because Adam was blinded by pride. He couldn't see, that was the problem, he couldn't _see_. He couldn't see the shimmer that offset the rose in the beggar woman's hands. He couldn't see the enchantment.

But he can see the scar on Belle's shoulder. He caused that scar. And yet she still loves him.

It just baffles him. It really does.

* * *

Every so often, in the midst of her happiness, Princess Belle is met with guilt. This is natural, she knows. Anyone who leaves a life of normality and poverty for a life of splendor and regality will be met with some guilt, some unsurety, some fear. Most of the time, she's able to keep it at bay. She's able to glance out the castle window and see the beautiful kingdom before her, and she feels right again.

But there are little things that bother her. There's her father, uneasy and unadapted to the world of a royal family. There's the servants, who dote on her and drown her in gifts. There's the people of her village, who still look upon her with disdain.

And there's the three jagged scars on Adam's arm.

Belle doesn't see them very often. He keeps them concealed with the sleeve of his tunic or his grand blue dinner jacket. But sometimes she catches a glimpse, when he's washing or when he works in the gardens with the servants. She sees them, and she has to pause. She has to look at them for a moment, the red welts on tan skin.

She looks at them and knows they're her fault.

It was a mistake. She was afraid that night, and fear changes everything. It overwhelms a person. Even the strongest heroine can't fight it forever. And so Belle cracked; she distrusted the man within the beast before her. She did not see a human, but an animal. And so she ran into the night, and cried in terror as the wolves leapt at her throat. She'd never seen eyes so hungry.

But he came for her. Adam came, and he fought for her life, this stranger who'd trespassed on his deepest secret, who'd betrayed his trust and defied his order. He roared into the night wind, and stood over her like a mountain, like a fortress of stone. He ripped the pelts from the snarling dogs, heaving them into the air, growling furiously as they attacked him. He stood his ground. He did not flee.

She watched as one wolf - just a runt, really - made his way closer. Before she could shout a warning, his claws flashed under the moonlight, and they raked across Adam's arm, mangling skin and fur. Blood immediately sprung beneath the wound, and it was not long before the breath left his lungs and he collapsed in the snow.

Belle almost left him there, cold and dying, and that's the sad truth.

But there's something about heroines - about princesses. They are brave. They do not leave anyone behind. And so something within Belle made her turn around, made her go to the beast, made her cover his wound with her cloak and carry him back to the castle.

Something made her believe, and so she was rewarded, and here he is now. Here is Adam, lying next to her, fully human, his bright blue eyes watching her in the dark. Here is Adam, and all of him is right, except for those scars.

She can't make them go away. But that doesn't stop her from trying. She proves her devotion to Adam every day, trusting him with her life, with her future, her dreams. She gives up her wishes for Paris and Venice. Instead, she becomes his queen, she serves her kingdom, and she gives him two beautiful children.

But that doesn't keep her from doubting. It doesn't keep her from fearing. And it doesn't keep away the guilt that plagues her when she thinks that Lumiere nearly lost Babette, Chip chased her home, and Adam almost died because she did not initially trust the beast before her. She couldn't see, that was the problem, she couldn't _see_. She couldn't see the kindness in those big blue eyes. She couldn't see the love.

But she can see the scars on Adam's arm. She caused those scars. And yet he still loves her.

It just baffles her. It really does.


End file.
